


I Don't Do To Well On My Own

by Applefall



Series: Ficlets [8]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefall/pseuds/Applefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Do To Well On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> oops

The strawberry blond wakes up at five in the morning, alone. There's no trace of his best friend, only the scent of him. Cinnamon. Patrick sits up in the bed, bare skin cold against the early Chicago air. His hair is messy and his chest feels sticky. 

The curtains are drawn and there's a glass of water on his nightstand. Patrick scoots over to the empty side of the bed, burying his face in the pillow. It's still warm. He can tell he left not long ago, because there's ice in the glass of water and the side of the bed is warm and smells like him.

Patrick sits up again and gets out of the bed, stretching. He scratches his bare stomach, padding to the bathroom. His heart and throat feels tight and his limbs feel weak, but he can't bring himself to freak out about the situation. He examines himself in the mirror. There's a scratch on his shoulder and there are bruises on his hips, and a bright red hickey on his neck. He brings pale fingers up to touch it, staring at himself with blue greens. 

He goes back out and notices a note on the other nightstand. Patrick picks it up and holds it up to the very faint light.

_Patrick, this was a mistake. Let's never speak of this again, yeah? - Pete_

The words shatter his heart, and he breathes in, closing his eyes. He drops the note and flutters to the ground. Patrick heads to the window and opens the curtains. The faint light hits his face and he breathes in again, then exhales, his breath shaky for the first time.

Was he not good enough?

Did he not live up to his expectations?

Patrick runs the questions through his mind and turns away from the window, scanning his room. There's a hoodie on the floor, and he picks it up. Black and red, bartskulls decorating it. He lifts up to his nose.

Cinnamon.

His eyes water and wipes at them, refusing to let them fall. He should have known this would happen. Patrick puts the hoodie at the foot of his bed and then picks up the pen that falls out. He puts it on his bed side table.

He had seemed so sincere.

_God, Patrick, you're gorgeous, you know that right?_

_Patrick, you're perfect. Perfect._

In between kisses Pete had whispered compliments into his neck, had kissed away his insecurities. Those insecurities were supposed to be gone. And now the walls were back up. The bites Pete had placed up and down his body seemed like promises at the time. The touches across his body felt like coming home.

Patrick's heart twists again at the thought. How long had he wanted this, wanted Pete? Years and years. Patrick had wanted Pete inside and out for years, wanted to trail his tongue across the inked skin so many times. And last night he got to. But only once. 

Maybe it was his punishment for touching and forgetting to only look. Pete was as beautiful as art, deserved to be touched by people better than Patrick. Patrick wasn't like Pete. Pete was exotic and gorgeous. Patrick was overweight and sweaty. He should have known that it was a mistake from the beginning. Patrick climbs back into the bed.

He lays down on the still warm side of the bed and breathes in the scent.


End file.
